


Designs

by The_Marauder_Named_Prongs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Marauder_Named_Prongs/pseuds/The_Marauder_Named_Prongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The opening scene of episode 9.14 pans through a metal grate in the door of Dean's bedroom. Castiel and Dean indulge in a voyeuristic and exhibitionistic kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Designs

**Author's Note:**

> A shot of the opening scene can be found [here](http://nerd-in-the-tardis.tumblr.com/post/77887192123).

Castiel arrives at the bunker at the time Dean had told him to, passing through the empty entryway, his fingers skating nervously over the tops of the tables as he passes between them. He walks slowly through the halls, feeling his vessel begin to perspire as he nears Dean’s room. 

He stops outside the door, his fingers curled into his palms. He stands very still, careful to keep the trench coat from rustling as he kneels outside the door. His palms flatten against the stone floor; his elbows bend as he levels his eyes with the grate built into the bottom of the door. He can see through the design carved into the burnished metal. He bends his elbows further, crouching in an uncomfortable position that has his knees grinding into the stone as he twists his neck to see the bed. 

He sees Dean’s feet first, black socks disappearing into the cuffs of his jeans. He follows the length of his legs, sucking in a sharp breath at his naked thighs. Dean has the waistband of his jeans and boxers shoved around his knees. His shirt is rucked up under his armpits, his head thrown back against the pillow. Castiel can see the line of his jaw tipped up to the ceiling, but his eyes are lost.

Castiel’s hands curl into damp fists as he traces back down Dean’s flushed chest, focusing on Dean’s hands. He has one wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously, the other disappearing between the V of his legs. Castiel watches Dean’s fingers fly across his skin, his thumb swiping at the bead of precum gathering at the slit before it falls to his stomach. Castiel’s lips part, his tongue flicking over them as Dean’s jaw drops open, releasing a soft moan. 

Castiel watches immobile, his heart pounding thickly through his ears. He feels himself harden, straining against his trousers, but he needs his hands where they are. He can’t see through the grate properly without the support of his arms. He watches Dean’s toes curl in his socks as his breathing comes louder, quicker through the holes in the wood. He sees Dean’s cock disappear rapidly into the circle of his fingers. His focus is drawn to the muscles of Dean’s thighs as they tighten and tremble. 

Castiel feels a whine rise in the back of his throat, slipping through his lips as Dean’s back bows away from the bed. His nails dig into his hands as he pushes himself off the floor, flying into the room before he’s fully standing. 

Dean meets his eyes easily, grinning predatorily as he thrusts up into his hand eagerly, coming in stripes across his bare stomach and chest with a low moan.

He slumps bonelessly against the mattress, wiping his hand and chest on his shirt, still looking at Castiel, smile turned languid. He rumbles a laugh at Castiel, beckoning him over with a lazy flick of his fingers as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. Castiel reaches the edge of the bed, his gaze trapped between Dean’s smile and his softening cock. 

Dean laughs again, reaching up to push Castiel’s trench coat off of his shoulders. Castiel lets it fall to the floor as Dean tucks his fingers into the waistband of Castiel’s trousers. 

“I’m impressed,” Dean says, easing the zipper down over Castiel’s straining cock. 

“Why?” Castiel rasps, mouth dry. 

“You stayed out there longer than I thought you’d be able to.” Dean grins, pulling Castiel back against the pillows. He pops the button of Castiel’s pants, forcing his hips off the mattress to push the waistband down his legs. Dean kicks off his own jeans, knocking them into a pile over the side of the bed, quickly covering them with Castiel’s. 

He settles between Castiel’s knees, a lip between his teeth. Castiel groans, his dick heavy against his stomach, not an inch away from Dean’s mouth. 

“Please,” he pants, letting his head fall heavily against the pillow. His fingers dig into Dean’s short hair as his lips wrap around the head of his cock, sucking gently. Castiel moans loudly, his hips jolting up hard and unexpected, forcing Dean back momentarily.

He hears Dean’s deep chuckle as Castiel pulls his head back down to his cock, his fingers tangling tightly in his hair. Castiel moans appreciatively when Dean’s mouth returns to his cock, swallowing him down easily. He thrusts up into the warmth, feeling heat burn and break over his skin as he comes hard. 

His fingers fall from Dean’s hair almost immediately as he sighs, sated. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he says hoarsely, opening his eyes to Dean’s warm grin. Dean shakes his head, laughing easily as he crawls up Castiel’s body, curling into the curve of his arm. 

He nuzzles into Castiel’s neck, dropping lazy kisses against his throat. “Would you wanna do that again?” he asks quietly.

Castiel ponders the question, grinning cockily when he answers. “Only if you’d like to stand outside the door.”

Dean’s laugh rings loudly in his ears, making warmth curl in his chest. “That can be arranged.”


End file.
